Reading the End of the Novel First?

"He also said, ‘The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.’ " Mark 4: 26-29

I can't stand transitions. I like beginnings, and I'm so-so with endings, but I get real impatient in the middle, the getting from here to there. Seriously, I'm one of those sinful people who usually reads the end of the novel shortly after beginning it. It's a terrible habit, very frowned upon in society. I usually do read the whole novel, but it helps me be able to put the book down for a few seconds if I know where the thing is going.

Keith, Lucas, and I are sitting right in the center of a transition right now, as we finish out our year-long internship here in Monroe, and wait as whatever what God has for us next unfolds. And it has been driving me batty!

I am reading another young adult fantasy novel from the library, which I really like: Graceling, by Kristin Cashore. I must admit that I skipped to the ending on this one, because I couldn't put it down otherwise, and it's hard to read straight through anything in my life, with a 21-month-old like Lucas, a dog like Billy, and a husband like Keith! Heh heh. But it is a great book, a really good story, and now as I read it cover-to-cover the way I'm supposed to, I'm realizing that one of the beauties of this book is the way Cashore develops the relationship between the two main characters. And that in skipping ahead, I missed out on the tensions and flow of that development.

And then it dawned on me how much I try to do this in my life. I want so bad to know the "end" of the story, to rush through the middle so I won't be held in suspense. But here I am, thirty-three years old, with a toddler and just really getting started in a vocation that it will take me a lifetime to master in any real way. And so, I'm right in the middle of everything! My whole life is suspense!

So I guess I'd better learn to appreciate it somehow, for the wondrous mystery that it is. This morning, looking at the daily lectionary, the above parable from Mark's Gospel came up, and I heard it in a new way. The farmer doesn't know how the seed sprouts, and the earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain. The development of the plant is a mystery, but it is an important mystery, an unfolding which has to happen for the plant to grow to fruition. But the exciting thing is watching how it happens.

It's not just that it's worth waiting for the mystery to unfold, but the joy in life is watching and appreciating exactly how that will happen, bit by bit, turn by turn.

Creating a life of your own making

So my Mom left this book at my house during her last visit, 10-10-10 by Suzy Welch. Suzy Welch is a regular Oprah-related commentator, and in her words, her book is about "a new approach to making choices that will allow you to create a life of your own making..." (p.3). The decision-making tool Welch teaches involves framing a question about an action to take in one's life, and then visualizing the consequences of that action or inaction in 10 minutes, 10 months, and 10 years, and making one's decision based on the analysis of those potential consequences.

I think Welch's decision-making tool is a good one, and I will attempt to use it as we continue in our discernment process. But I have a problem with the language of "creating a life of your own making." This is one of those places where Christian faith smacks up against prevailing individualistic and consumerist cultural notions. I think the idea that a person can have "a life of one's own making" encourages a kind of self-idolatry and perpetuates the very crushing expectations from which Welch wants to help liberate us.

The thing is, our lives are never "of our own making." After all, not a one of us had a choice about being born. In fact, our lives result from a long line of choices that were made before any one of us ever came to be. The stories of scripture tell us that we exist only because God chose to create us, human beings, from the dust of the earth. We are creatures, first and foremost, and we do not create lives, neither our own, nor anyone else's. We are always the humble recipients of God's incredibly gracious gift of life.

And yet, I don't want to perpetuate any kind of fatalism, and I don't buy "double predestination" as it has been used and described by theologians in the past. We do have free will, and so we have agency in living out our lives. There are choices to be made. But the question is not, "How do I create a life of my own making?" so much as "How do I faithfully live into the life for which I have been created?"

In our world, there are SO many choices. More and more, it seems to me, this is a defining issue for the ministry of pastors and preachers in our time. We are free to use the gifts God has given us, but we must exercise wisdom and good judgment so that our choices form us more closely in the image of Christ.

Slowly, slowly

My Lucas has been sick this week, and time has gotten all wavy and wiggly on me. Like everyone else with kids these days, Keith and I have our schedules tightly knitted so that we can share work, household, and parenting duties. With Lucas home sick, everything must shift to accommodate someone staying home with him. The nice thing is, between the two of us, we are more than able to cover "one" ministry position (though the household and parenting positions may be questionable at times!).

However, weeks like this make me wonder about the younger families in our congregation and in our culture today. As we minister to these families, attempting to plan fellowship gatherings and Christian educational opportunities, it becomes rapidly clear how BUSY everyone seems to be in our world. Here in Monroe, once your kids have graduated from preschool, it seems that sports begin to take over your world. Life with preschoolers is isolating, so parents must look on the chance to integrate into the community's sports' scene as a relief at first, but then they seem to end up running from practice to practice, game to game, with nary a chance at taking a deep breath, let alone gathering for a church event.

This worries me, as I look at these parents and as I look at my rapidly growing boy. His latest trick is learning to climb onto the bed (the dog now has nowhere to escape him), so you know that we'll have to get him into sports to use up some of that physical energy. But I worry about running from here to there. I already feel too busy, and I have more opportunities than most people to pursue my church vocation and creative interests even while raising my son.

I came across this blog recently on "Slow Family Living," which gave me a chance to take a deep breath of relief ( http://slowfamilyliving.com/). From there, I found the following post in a New York Times blog on parenting, which is well worth a read:
http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/08/what-is-slow-parenting/
It fascinates me: as technology gets faster and faster, many people around the world are calling for a breather.

When I lived in Guatemala, and I would go walking in my mountain village, my host mother Toribia always sent me off, calling out a phrase that means, "Slowly, slowly, don't fall down." I found deep meaning in those words while living there, taking a year and moving with the Maya-Kiche seasons. Those words come back to me now, and I long to find a slow and steady rhythm to carry me through these days, even when "falling down" has happened.

What does "slow living" mean for you readers out there? How do you slow down?

"Purity of heart" and Toddler Parenting

Yesterday, Lucas made an exciting discovery: he can screech in an excruciatingly high pitch, and if he does so in the general vicinity of our dog, Billy, he gets a reaction which pleases him. Billy growls and runs away. Lucas laughs. All of this was going on while I was trying to make a salad for dinner. All I wanted to do was cut up some red onions, but I sighed and had the following conversation with myself:


Self 1: The kiddo is screeching at the dog.


Self 2: Ignore it. If you pay too much attention, he'll just keep it up.


Self 1: But the dog doesn't like it.


Self 2: It's not a big deal.


Self 1: But Billy might bite Lucas, and what will he learn if I let him harass the dog?


Self 2: I have to get this salad done, argh!


Self 1: Now where did that kiddo get to, anyway? (shrieking and growling from the back bedroom).


Was it Kierkegaard who said that "purity of heart is to will one thing"? (http://www.religion-online.org/showbook.asp?title=2523). Where toddler parenting is concerned, I find that willing one thing is darn near impossible. After all, in order to parent well, I must not only feed the toddler, but also myself; and in order to parent well, I must pick and choose my battles with the toddler; and in order to parent well, I must set reasonable limits on the toddler's behavior; and in order to parent well, I must MAKE THE SHRIEKING STOP!

Kierkegaard was writing about vocation and pursuing God's calling on our lives with clarity and decisiveness. But my life, as one who is called not only to church ministry but also to motherhood, is constantly pulled in many directions. Instead of willing one good thing, I find myself living every moment in the dynamic tension between many good things.

A couple of good books I've been working on recently include Also a Mother: Work and Family as Theological Dilemma and In the Midst of Chaos, both by Bonnie J. Miller-McLemore. I heaved a great sigh of relief when I read Miller-McLemore's perspective on how traditional spiritual practices of solitude and silence do not seem to be meant for people with children. I love silence and solitude, but I also love Lucas and the noisy chaos he brings into my life. Miller-McLemore believes that God is present and can be experienced in the midst of chaos, in practices of listening to children and in the tension of dual vocations.

Right now I'm not so sure. But I'm going to resist the temptation to read a few more parenting books, which often muddle me even more, and I'm going to attempt to trust The Parent of Us All to teach me how to parent peacefully. And I'm going to trust that the salads will get made, everyone will eat, Lucas will learn to respect Billy, and everyone will go to sleep tonight and wake up again tomorrow.

(Photo shows Lucas and Billy peacefully co-existing in May 2008.)